Tuesday, June 20, 2006

THE LONG WAIT HOME…

It was a sultry day and the scorching summer peeped through the trees trying to witness the event that was about to take place. The air was humid with the weight of each moment that passed. The trees rustled in the soft breeze whispering the anticipation in the air. In the shadow of their whispers on a wooden bench sat an old lady with her head held stubbornly high. Time had taught her undeniably that surrender to destiny was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice. Time would put her through perhaps the most painful test a mother would have to face. Her calm demeanor cached the multeity of emotions within. She sat there, the tender grass at her feet, staring at the entrance of a grey imposing structure.. Waiting..

Behind the walls of the grey structure that marked a different world, behind the dark corridors that were stale with the stench of forgotten dreams, behind the iron bars that caged the despair of broken wings, he lay on the cold ground staring at the ceiling above him. Time had taught him to fight with the world for one’s existence no matter what the end. Time had made him immune to fear - even fear of death. He lay there feeling the cold seep into his bones, his heart beating in synchrony with each passing moment…. Waiting…

The sound of clink of metal broke him away from his reverie, as the supervisor of the prison opened the cell with food in his hands. He gulped the food and it went down his throat like little rocks. Later a doctor came to examine him. To check if he was healthy enough to die? He grinned at that thought.

…The breeze lifted the fallen leaves from near her feet. She took a silent walk through time, lost in the haze of memories. The images behind her closed eyes were entwined in darkness. The voices echoing in her ears were weaved in silence. The whispers knocked at the doorstep of her heart. She walked up the empty inner rooms of her memories calling out for the child that had been hers… The child that had clung onto her finger as he learned to walk… The child that slept against her bosom in blissful slumber… She had only herself to blame for the man he turned into. She may have loved him too much. She should have read the signs… The friends he hung out with… The long recurring trips until finally he vanished leaving her behind with a hole in her heart. She hadn’t heard from him until the arrest. “Aggravated murder and sentenced to death” the court had declared, not knowing how many lives would die with one. The leaves settled in some corner of the world.

In the other world, he waited till his time came. He had no remorse in life. He loathed the so called ‘law’ that thought it knew what is right for people. What does the ‘law’ know about the life in the streets? The law cannot feed people. The law cannot set one free. Initially he had felt trapped in the path he had chosen for himself. But later he was intoxicated by the money and the power it gave him. He felt as if he was empowered to rule the lives of people around him.

When the metal bars opened for the second time that day, he knew he was not coming back. The Superintendent, Deputy Superintendent and three guards stepped into his cell. One of the guards applied the restraints on him while the other two held him. Then the two guards held either of his arms and urged him out of the cell. He swung his arms away from their grip and said “I walked on my own in life. I can walk on my own to death.” So with one guard on either side, the other guard and officials behind him, he marched toward death.

At the execution room, the executioner was waiting for the convict to arrive. This was his first execution, not that he was looking forward for it. As the convict entered he felt a chill run through his spine. When the convict was taken past him to the scaffold, he looked straight into the executioner’s eyes, as if knowing he was the one destined to put his life to an end. The executioner saw the cruelty lurking in the corners of his eyes.

After the prisoner was made to stand near the scaffold, the death warrant was read aloud. The warders held the arm of the convict and mounted him over the scaffold, placing him directly under the beam to which rope was attached. The executioner, with professional indifference that he was trained at, strapped his legs tightly together, placed the black cap over his head and adjusted the rope tightly around his neck. To the executioner, the faceless figure standing at the scaffold seemed like any other man. He stepped down from the platform and everyone waited…

The arrow of time pierced the thin air. The pendulum swung solemnly, steadily. Time ticked by in the convict’s pulse, in his heart. His heartbeats raced with each tick of the clock. Everything around held its breath in anticipation of the next second. A sullen silence remained. For the first time he felt fear grip him slowly like a snake tightening around its prey. He felt his inner self writhing as if on a red-hot metal sheet. Just as the clock signaled it was time, as the executioner signaled the guards to withdraw from the scaffold, as he drew the bolt, as the rope tightened against the convict’s throat beneath the black cloth, as the ground he stood on gave away under him, just before he choked at his own weight, a loud cry escaped his lips that echoed within the walls of room, ringing hollowly in the minds of the people in it. That scream would haunt the executioner’s dreams for years to come.

At that moment time had stood still. Not a leaf rustled, not a soul stirred. Everything seemed to be frozen, captured in the ice of timelessness. Nature reflected the emptiness within a mother’s soul.

Later at the funeral house she waited to take her son back home with her. When his body was brought to her, she stood beside him and removed the white cloth that covered his face. Not a tear was shed… Not a sob escaped her lips… She stared at his face searching for her child, only to realize he wasn’t there.

She started her journey towards home with the corpse of her son; only she knew that she had reached the end of her long journey.

135 comments:

I'm new to the blogosphere, and, from what i've seen so far, it seems to me that blogging culture has spread like a wild forest fire especially among talented mumbaikars such as yourself, which is all very good, i really liked your story. keep up the good work.

....what was that ! i feel like i have been hit hard on the head! I am actually in a dilemma as to what to write here.. no words to express the richness in which you have captured the entire piece .. no words to describe how miserable i feel either.

Beautifully written, but sad, a mothers grief. I am really against the death penalty, I dont think we have the right to kill another even if it is justified.He can live the rest of his life in prison and feel remorse.but to execute,,I say no.

Rose u wrote that so well. I really had tears in my eyes and goosebumps all over my body as I read it. Cos u know Im a strong opponent of the death penalty. I say it's the most brutal act of so called law-abiding authorities.

**That scream would haunt the executioner’s dreams for years to come.

yeah I often wonder how he does it and then goes home and eat, sleep and live life. I really wonder!

Just imagine that fear in the prisoner's eyes...the feelings he may be going thru in that last min. It's just not even comprehensible! by us!

This post was very graphic and very well-written to make us all feel the mother's and the son's pain in the hands of a so-called law.

You have written this with great intensity and precision and is really admirable...I felt like I was watching "The Green Mile"...Mi, you have an astounding tap on the emotions of the mother, the convict and in in general affair inside the prison...dont think I have read something written to this perfection.

awesome post.. i was intimidated by its sheer length but as i read on i was captivated.. i missed the punch at the ending though... was it because she 'refused' to see the murder her son became and was grieving for the sweet, innocent child that she had given birth to?

i'm sure plenty of thought has gone into the post or it wouldn't have been so intricated and so finely sketched!

Excellent pos. U write too well dude. U gotta step up from blogging to serious fiction writing. Except when u write it seems its not fiction but reality and u actually experienced or observed it with your own eyes. Of course its not true ;) But so it seems. Its that convincing.

What an intense story!! I agree to starry nights - I'm as well against death penalty! I guess no human has the right to take away a life, regardless if justified or not ... sometimes though I wish to find sort of a "Gulag Archipelago" for them and NOT, like here, a prison with all kind of luxuries including the option to train for a job or even study and graduate!!It still needs to be a punishment ... and as well feel like one!GREAT story - excellently narrated!

I can only enjoy blogs of people who write serious heavy stuff and I just wonder how do people come up with such things. Seriousness in lfie is just not possible for me...forget about writing down something in blog.

"just before he choked at his own weight, a loud cry escaped his lips that echoed within the walls of room, ringing hollowly in the minds of the people in it."

Beautifuly scripted... dont take me for a saddist...but the line means a world..

Life's love for life...Repantance of a sinner...Feelin of having deceived ur loved ones and yourself...The fear of death...Hunderds of thought, too little time to express it all, A lound scream , not of physicall pain... but a from of expressing all that is going on in his mind...

Capital punishment is something truly strange. Man killing man in the name of law is not easily digested by many, but however justice has to prevail. The story is captivating by it`s theme, the mother`s wait for her son, the convict`s indifference to death, and the executioner going about his duty is all so beautifully highlighted.

Ya.. I knw.. There r no words to explain wat the people in the story went through..

@ Sreekumar..

Thank u.. Dark poetry is my forte..

@ Starry Nights..

I am against capital punishment as wel.. Its jst not humane.. But there r issues such as growing population in prisons, absense of a reform system.. and then there are the 'rarest of rare' cases as spelt by the law.. I gues in such cases capital punishment is ok.. But yes, it does not mitigate the horror in taking a person's life..

I luvd 'Brave Heart'.. didnt think of that scene while writing this piece though.. But yes, nw that u mentioned it, time did pierce the thin air when the axe descended on Mel Gibson..

@ Scribblez..

Im not sure if i got the activities that happen during an execution right.. It was based on wat iv heard and read abt how it happens.. Nonetheless the focus of the write-up was the emotions involved in such a happening, rather than the detailing of events.. Glad u liked it! :)

Thanks for the encouraging words.. Cold Coffee.. U hv got it right.. In her mind she only had a picture of her son as an innocent child basking in the warmth of her love.. She refused to see the man he had becum.. Plus, she was looking at a corpse abandoned by her son's soul long before.. Her son was no longer trapped in that body..

OMG!!U flatter me too much.. Never thot abt stepping into writing although its very close to my heart.. My writing seeming kinda convincing may stem from the fact that i truly n strongly feel for what i write.. :)

I love Munich..

Oh.. U have stolen the thought out of my heart.. U r absolutely right.. The fundamental notion behind the existence of a legal system is the annihilation of crime as far as possible, NOT the annihilation of people, even if they r criminals.. Today the scenario is such that, a person once convicted and served his time, finds it impossible to get a decent job, thus forcing him to go back to scrupulous ways of existence, thus challenging the very purpose of a judiciary system. In my head i picture an ideal reform system were convicts are given psychological and medical attention, counseling and most importantly opportunity for jobs once they finish serving their term.. But as i said i gues al these are 'ideal' situations..

A lot of effort towards these reforms are happening on a greater scale in many western countries.. But for a so-called "third world" country like India, where employing its educated masses itself is a huge problem, who will be willing to employ convicts?? Another issue is the torture endured by inmates, both from officials and other inmates, which turn them into animals for life… But the scariest fact of all is the large proportion of sentenced convicts being actually innocent. In a country like US, statistics show the probability of the accused but innocent being convicted is as high as 20%. I cannot even fathom what the numbers wud be like in India…

I do not have any answers to the issues raised here. But what scares me most is that, given the resource and other constraints, there is practically no effort undertaken to address these issues in our country.

Well u shud listen to my ridiculous PJs to know exactly how serious I am.. ;)

@ Ranga the Raja..

Damn!!!! Now i have to outperfom myself.. hehe..

@ Starry Nites..

I accept ur smile n hugs with open arms.. But wich bird?? And y do u think im low?? Im as bright n merry as a child tasting his first lolly-pop.. :).. But thnks dear.. I knw now that there wud be a smile n hug waiting for me frm across the miles the nxt time im low.. Ummmmmmaahhh !!!

"Hunderds of thoughts, too little time to express.. A lound scream , not of physicall pain... but a from of expressing all that is going on in his mind... " Those r exactly the emotions i wnted to convey.. Hey! u shud hv written this post.. ;)

Ya i sing.. only in private.. as I dont want to scare off living creatures around me nor do i want to make the dead rise.. Now esp since im carrying a brutal cold and the nasal block bestowed by it, i sound like a innocuous dog in deep agony.. :D

we fellow bloggers understand that a busy schedule awaits u ahead ... given all the wendderful (note the pronunciation) xchange of feelings we got to see here ...but that certainly does not mean that we keep hitting on ur blog just to see the same ol post with half a dozen comments added after the last visit ...(most of which ..ahem :P ) .. so puhleej write something ..ah something means something nice .. not heavy stuff like this .. kuch meetha ho jaye types :P

"he(anup(777 or whatever)) stared at her blog searching for her , only to realize she wasn’t there."brought tears to my eyes too...i dont understand how mumbai people manage to burn buses on rainy days...sniffpetrol too is costly...sniff...sniff